A Current Obsession
by lacrimatra
Summary: Set in London, Eric finally becomes infatuated with a girl who ISN'T SOOKIE and who refuses to bend unquestionably to his will - how far will he go to get her? And how will Pam react to her master's disposition? T for early chapters, M for later.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N This is my first ever fanfic - hope you like it! Have to thank my friend Riatree, the co-author, for her amazing beta skills and without her this whole thing would have no real plot and a million annoying typos so yay she's amazing!!! Also should thank Charlaine Harris for the invention of her fantastic characters and, of course, Alexander Skarsgard should probably be thanked too for making Eric one of the hottest vampires on television and providing inspiration for this story. The title is a Lacuna Coil song which we thought would be quite appropriate. _

_I think that's it... Enjoy! _

Eric looked around his dominion. They were all his: his vampires and his humans. He was in control of all of them. He could feel the excitement in the room, feel the fearful (and awe-filled) glances cast his way as they endeavoured to please their giant Viking overlord...

"Master. Master! For God's sake, snap out of it – we need you to pose for the new posters..." Pam's impatient voice broke through his reverie and his vision of power faded to the disappointingly mundane layout that was Fangtasia. He glared at Pam - who did not bat an eyelid at his carefully rehearsed 'I'm-sexy-and-ruler-of-everything-so-don't-mess-with-me' look. He hadn't had real blood in a while since Pam had added a policy of 'no feeding on customers' to make the place seem more 'friendly'. Yes, the lack of feeding was really going to make Fangtasia more of a family place – excluding the pole dancing, the alcohol and some of the Supes who often felt the need to tear up the establishment during their many little 'scrapes'. He was tired, therefore, and allowed himself to be escorted out of the room, knowing better than to argue with his creation who at the moment he was extremely regretting the creation of. He saw the appraising and flirtatious glances of the female (and some of the male) fangbangers in the room and adopted his usual cool, aloof expression. Although he was at this moment feeling like a puppy being dragged by its collar, he wanted to show that he could still maintain some respectability.

And then Pam shoved him inelegantly into the room with the photographer and he stumbled, falling to his knees, dissolving his last shred of dignity.

A hand was held in front of him, but he refused, refused to sink that low. He stood up with as much smoothness as possible (he had to at least make an effort to piece together his seamlessly-cool-and-serenely-calm look again) and found himself staring into the most gorgeous blue eyes of a beautiful young woman...actually that was what he had hoped. Instead it was a rather aged, grey-haired man who, though equipped with sparkling blue eyes and a camera, was not quite the young-blooded, curvaceous blonde he had been expecting. He couldn't help noticing from the man's greeting that he possessed the effeminate, over-articulated and oh-so British voice which the more 'artistic' types in and around London were currently sporting; very different from his smooth American accent, still left with a chiselled touch of his Swedish roots. Although he had to admit he had had his moments, these days Eric strictly kept to the straight side of the road and the next hour proved to be a slightly awkward one of performing rather inviting poses for this elderly photographer. And, to be honest, Eric felt the photographer was enjoying the scene far too much...yet, he told himself, he – Eric Northman, conqueror of great lands and ruler of the magnificent Area 5 – could act professionally. So he posed with all the suaveness one can muster when dressed in luminous pink lycra (Pam had insisted) and, though he prized himself in not having to try to look sexy, kept up his 'I'm-hot-look-at me' pouts and smoulders for the full hour. He paid the photographer, who thanked him and shook his hand for a little longer than was entirely necessary and the sheriff all but ran out of the room to retrieve his feeling of power that he was ashamed to say one creepy old photographer and his insolent child had denied him.

Yet as he neared the door to his beloved club, said child crashed straight into him, once again ruining his efforts.

"Oh master, there you are!" Pam steered him by the arm away from the club and into his office. By now he had lost the will to resist – he had never realised just how tiring posing for a perverted homosexual photographer could be. Once Pam had released him from her grasp and deposited him messily on the couch, she slammed the door, looked him up and down and grimaced.

"The lycra may be suitable for our advertisements, but it is definitely not club couture."

"And what is wrong with this outfit? I run the club; I can wear what I want!" Eric said, standing up in defiance: he was fed up with being pushed around by this tiny woman, "It's not like you're a representative of the fashion police."

"Honey," She said, pushing him back onto the couch, "You don't need to be part of the fashion police to tell that that lycra is going to completely ruin the atmosphere that I have worked so hard to achieve."

She conspicuously glanced down at her own leather corseted black and red dress, lacy gauntlets and knee high stiletto boots. He looked at her clothes and then at his own skin tight leggings, noting how well they displayed certain parts of his anatomy. Finally, he conceded:

"You're right, Pam, I suppose some males out there would be intimidated by the size of my-" He was cut off as a grotesque flowered shirt hit him squarely in the face.

"Honestly, Eric, what kind of crap have you been storing in here? You'd think we're in the Victorian era again..."

More clothes were soon strewn both on him and at his feet as she rifled through his wardrobe, continuing her assault until she reached the very back. Figuring that it was her favourite pastime to organise the wardrobes of Fangtasia's team, owner and bartenders alike, he let her get on with it. Minutes later she emerged triumphantly, a plain red silk shirt draped over one arm, simple black trousers, cut rather like Latin dancers wore, over the other. These, it seemed, did not deserve the toss of disgust and were instead placed on the side of the couch for him.

"Not quite as elaborate as I had hoped after all that effort but it should do you for now..."

She thought for a moment while he stood up and without protest proceeded to pull off the offending garment, stretching the rippling muscles of his torso out before easing into the shirt his 'personal stylist' was adamant he wear. Well, it was certainly not doing a good job of setting his assets off to best effect, he thought as he smoothed it out over his chest and shoulders, finding it easy to fasten the buttons. Since when did Pam become a stickler for modesty? Of course, he chided himself, they were not back in Louisiana any more, they were in London, and here he had noticed, although it was the middle of Soho, a strictly red-light district (he had once wandered the sex shops, amused how humans would need to resort to such methods to achieve satisfaction), the British still managed to harbour a more conservative approach to life, one which left no room for such flamboyance as electric pink spandex. Pam of course, being English herself, would want to pick up on this and tone down his look, to – he almost scoffed - 'normalise' things slightly (although how she was channelling this through her dominatrix outfit still eluded him).She, however, showed no regard for his opinion of the clothing she had selected. Instead, Pam pulled out a diary and began to rifle rapidly through the pages.

"Yes I think I'll be able to do some shopping for you tomorrow – I was going to be meeting my friend but I'm sure she'd love to come too!"

There was a moment of silence as Eric persevered with pulling off his clothes, neither caring about his current state of dishabille.

"So did you enjoy your photo shoot, master?" Pam asked conversationally. Eric grimaced – and not just because he was struggling to pull off the Lycra.

"Pam, you know my... tastes? Why the hell did you send me that old _male_ photographer?"

"Oh you mean Ted? He's a darling isn't he?"

"I'm pretty sure he's gay."

"Really? Well it's hard not look at least slightly turned on whatever the gender when faced with your wonderful poses in that rather revealing outfit..."

"But what happened to the last one? The cute blonde one?" Eric paused while pulling on the trousers, remembering that girl's great body. Pam giggled.

"Well last night, she and I were..." She coughed, "Occupied. I think she needed tonight to recuperate."

She smiled as Eric's eyes glazed over slightly whilst imagining the scenes her words had conjured. He asked Pam for a more vivid description and she laughed.

"You're just like a hormonal teenage boy, you know that right? Well if you insist, she was standing like this while I-"

_I will not bend to a cross,_

_I will not kneel at your feet..._

"Which band do we have here? That voice is so beautiful..."

Pam was slightly surprised. The only time Eric had last interrupted her descriptions of her antics with her 'lady friends' was when one of his friends was staked. And even then, after they'd drunk the Fellowship of the Sun guy's blood dry he had asked her to continue.

"Oh it's just the usual one you know? Um... What are they called? Amoratra I think…"

Almost before she could finish, Eric walked out of his office and out into the club where, sure enough, the regular metal band they had was playing. But one thing was different – there was a girl, a dark haired beauty, at the front of the stage who (in his opinion) outshone the others' floor length trenchcoats, vigorous headbanging and mighty stage manners with a delicate, soft radiance. She held the microphone with both hands, singing her perfectly pitched notes into it while swaying in time with the music, pausing occasionally to beam at the crowd. Soon, Eric found himself curiously transfixed by the girl. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall in soft curls, shimmering with the same luminescence that seemed to emanate from her olive skin. He was sure that almost every man in the club had to be thinking the same thing – how luscious her body looked in her black, figure hugging top, with netted sleeves that curled around her upper arms and shoulders, how the cut of the neckline hugged and accentuated her cleavage just so, how she moved around in her knee high, chunky boots, how well her form-fitting dark jeans curved themselves beautifully around her legs.

He heard the guy singing again, but he did not break his focus on her as she moved aside to let the male singer take centre stage for his lines:

"_Greed and anger, made us younger – couldn't save us when the tower fell..."_

The girl seemed to have noticed him staring because as the last notes of the tune played out, she put an arm around the singer and whispered something in his ear, inducing a wave of jealousy that swept through Eric. Then she was walking towards him. And well she might. Clearly, she had noticed that an amazingly hot and sexy vamp was watching her intently and he was certain that soon they would both be occupied in a very hot and sexy way. He watched how she moved confidently as she neared the corner of the room, where he was currently positioned, leaning coolly against the mahogany ledges... and strode straight past him.

_A/N The song is called The Ravens by Tristania and is truly amazing!_


	2. Chapter 2

He followed the movement of the top of her head, observing the way her long hair swished as she kept going, and rather more confidently than he could ever normally tolerate. Perhaps it was because he had grown so accustomed to being admired, and stared at, and fantasised about, and propositioned by the women who flocked to the club every night in the hope he would sink his fangs into their neck - or other places, for that matter. Maybe that was what made her reaction - or lack of it, so wholly unexpected. However, the way she subconsciously bid him follow her with her graceful walk was all too enticing to Eric, and he stalked off after her towards the darkened corner.

"Pam! It's so good to see you! I was looking for you before..." The pair hugged and started gossiping in the way that only girls know how.

Although he knew she was with Pam, his child and yes, former lover, Eric found something all too stimulating about the way the pair embraced each other, the way their arms locked around each other's bodies, something about seeing _her_ make contact with a woman in that way, so much so that his current, vivid imagination could clearly see how another female would be most welcome when he –

"I should probably introduce you to my maker – Eric." The familiar Voice Of Doom interjected, disturbing his little and very, very pleasant happy dream. Finally, Pam and the girl turned to the impatient Viking.

"Kat this is Eric. Eric, Kat – that friend I told you about."

"Pleasure to meet you," Kat said, smiling, almost business-like and – nope, no kiss on the cheek or so much as a whispered suggestion. She offered him a handshake. Him. The hottest guy in the district. A handshake. While embarrassing for any man of his looks and stature, for a vampire, it was degrading still – vamps, while owning the potential to be cordial should they wish – never ever shook hands. It was like the unspoken law, and something which humans had to learn quickly to accustom themselves to. And here was this woman in front of him, grinning, with her arm outstretched, as if his ethereal perfection and commanding presence meant nothing to her. Yet he took it – he humbled himself for this beautiful girl with a beautiful voice, feeling her soft skin and looking deep into her perfect dark eyes.

"I'm sure I haven't seen you at the club before..."

"Kat's here with her brother. He's the usual singer of the band." Pam answered for her, angering Eric slightly. Clearly his attempts at a conversation were not going to work while she was still in the room. He wanted to hear _her_ voice again, that slight accented lilt... he wanted to hear her say his name with need and passion...

"Yes but the band needed a female singer to do some of the Tristania covers so I stepped in."

"Tristania?"

"They're an amazing Norwegian band! You haven't heard of them?"

"Can't say that I have..." Eric silently cursed himself. He should have told her he knew the band. He should have told her he knew everything about her. He needed her to see the connection he could feel so strongly. "So how long have you and Pam known each other?"

"Well Kat needed something to wear for her first gig a few months ago so I assume her brother told her to find me... and we've been friends ever since." Pam said, again annoying Eric by answering for the girl, smiling slightly as she read the interest in her master's eyes that her friend was oblivious to.

"Pam, that reminds me - when do you want this top back?"

Luckily the emergence of Kat's brother saved Eric from being transported down the blissful road of imagining her removing her clothes. He sauntered over to them, winked at Pam and told Kat that they were about to start the next song.

"I'll just be a second, Marat." He nodded and, brushing closer to Pam than he needed to, walked back up to the stage at the other end of the room.

"Well I guess I've got to go back up there!" She smiled apologetically at the two of them, "I'll see you tomorrow night, Pam?"

"Sure. Have a great gig."

"Thanks." She nodded at Eric who, for the first time in many decades, could not find the appropriate smooth-yet-not-too-obvious-but-suggestive farewell in his long list of pick-up lines. He watched longingly as she walked - no, glided - back up to the stage, hips swinging seductively. She somehow managed to be so graceful and elegant even in those heavy boots which he knew she could only have got from Camden Market, a place not too far (well, in American terms, just down the road) from the location of their club, where the flag-bearers of the alternative scene found all of their gear amongst an array of stalls, shops and druggies.

He spent the next hour watching the band. Well, if you could call lusting after the singer watching. He wished that damn brother of hers (what was his name? Marat?) wouldn't keep interrupting rudely with his singing, he wanted to hear her notes, her delightfully accented words. Finally, when the band backed away from the stage, leaving just her and the keyboardist, he was rewarded by her smooth, haunting aria, a sweet soprano which pierced through the livened atmosphere of the club, leaving a chilling calm in its wake:

_"Wake up, wake up_  
_There's an angel in the snow_  
_Look up, look up_  
_It's a frightened dead boy..."_

"Want a drink?" Pam was offering Eric a juicy young brunette who virtually prostrated herself in front of the disinterested sheriff.

"I though you had that no feeding policy today?" He asked absently, barely noticing the meal, his eyes still focused on Kat, who was now moshing to the music, her gorgeous dark hair remaining perfectly in shape as she swung it back behind her shoulders.

"Well yes but you're moping so much tonight that I thought my master would want a treat."

"I'm not hungry." He said, sparing a glance at the pleading girl who wanted so much to be able to tell her friends that the Viking had drunk her blood. Pam sighed and pushed the girl back into the crowd, although she was so intoxicated that she barely noticed.

"Well I can tell you're only going to accept one drink tonight - but face it, she's not on the menu." Eric looked directly at Pam, who was leaning casually next to his chair.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on Eric - you'd have to be blind and deaf not to notice that you're virtually drooling over Kat. And there's no way I'm letting you get to her, I've seen what you've done to your other 'interests' and none of them have ended well. I don't want you scaring away my friend." Eric looked daggers at Pam who, as always, stared back defiantly.

"Yes, Eric, for the first time in your life, you're going to have to control your lust."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This chapter was written by __**Riatree **__because she felt like trying out a POV. We really felt like exploring the character of Pam because she is just so much fun! Don't we all wish we could be as ethereally cool as her?_

_Thanks also to whoever's been reading, it's been great!! Our first review cheered me up NO END! Long may it continue :-)_

_Without further ado, all Pam fanatics, hope you like this one ;)_

_**Pam's POV:**_

It didn't take me any more than twenty seconds to work it out. Alright, so he hasn't admitted it, but I _know_. He's so fucking predictable. Trying to convince himself that after 200 years he can still hide the inner workings of his brain from me. Doesn't he realise that it only takes one glance or a tiny twitch from his massive frame for me to know exactly what's going on with him?

All that's said about the hardened, old vampire, so long left on this Earth that have become about as interesting as pieces of gravel? 99% true, 1% bullshit. You see, every so often, one human gets through to a vampire, and it's often never quite clear why they have such an impact on us. A hidden connection, something about their scent, their action has an effect which is rarely seen; the effect of affection towards a breather. So I saw the way he looked tonight, the way he was transfixed, rooted to the spot by Kat's beauty and captivating voice, and I knew, that it had indeed happened – she had gotten to him. And his lust, for once, must be suppressed.. But if he asks me for any help on this one, I will have to flatly refuse. Yes, he is beautiful, magnificent, a Viking sex-god who could charm his way into the Pentagon, and yes, he can have his pick of women from the multitude of propositions from all-too-willing fangbangers that he gets, but he needs to learn.

Truth is, I would actually do almost anything for Eric. Yes, being his child means I am automatically obliged to do anything he wants me to do on pain of something very terrible, but our relationship has reached higher plateaus than that. I do not stay with Eric because I am forced to: I stay because he has earned my respect and admiration in a way in which no mortal could. Fate had parted us for many years, but when he summoned me to Louisiana with a proposal to co-own his new business venture, I flew like a – well, nothing flies better than a vampire on a mission. Yes, the club we had there was a wonderful endeavour, providing us with many humourous kicks and endless challenges, but I soon wanted something new. I suggested to Eric that we might try our luck again across the ocean, back in my home country, England, to see what delights the London nightlife could turn up. Oddly enough, after a minimal amount of pestering, he agreed, and we set up this place. We had all the time in the world after all, he used to joke. I don't regret it – seeing the Soho regulars presenting the toughest image they can in the form of bondage pants, corsets, trench coats and chains is always entertaining, and the peaceful, cosier life England has to offer often suits a vampire greatly. We still get plenty of action, of course, but have the option of actually switching off when need be. And so we came to this night, the night he saw the woman which struck such wonder in him.

If I'm honest, I'm not overwhelmingly surprised by the effect she's had on him. She struck me the minute she spoke too. It was about two months ago now, when our regular twice-weekly band, the singer of gothic metal Amoratra (just one of the many, many heavy rockers lacing the streets and clubs of downtown central London) met with me to discuss a change of set. He spent the whole night, of course, sitting as close to me as possible, finding every single opportunity he could to brush my knee or thrust his arm out in the direction of my chest, the filthy bastard. No wonder I've taken a preference to women, after the shenanigans men think they can fucking get away with. Anyway, he announced that they wanted to bring in a female singer for a few evenings, just so they could fit some more covers in which required a soprano voice. I didn't mind, of course; they would only get the sack from Eric if the punters weren't happy with their music – and that threat was enough to instil in the band the necessity to always keep things good and sweet. A hot girl up there as well, I thought, might attract a lot more attention, and attention is always good for business.

Before I could ask, however, who exactly this new singer was going to be, Marat jumped up and enthusiastically offered to introduce her to me. No doubt, some sick fantasies were already playing out in his head…but I said yes and minutes later he returned with the prettiest little cupcake I had seen in just about a century. She had on jeans, flat red shoes, a grey vest top and black blazer - the 'casual look', as the fashion magazines always call it. She had her arm around Marat and whispered a few words to him in a language I perceived to be something Eastern European (I'd picked up some phrases on our travels, but I couldn't place it exactly), before turning to me –

"Hey, Pam, is it?" I picked up the accent in her voice, not rough like Eric's but softer, almost melodic in its intonation. "I'm Marat's sister, I'll be singing here in a while and I was wondering if you'd let me borrow one of your outfits? I mean if that's okay, I'd just like to really look the part and nothing I have seems to work!"

I have to admit to being slightly taken aback by the confidence she displayed, but that's just what got me. She wasn't a meek, whiny little slip of a thing, clinging to her brother in the presence of Big Scary Mean Vampire Lady, but had spoken out, asked me for my clothes, even. She certainly intrigued me, and I couldn't turn down her offer. Her cleavage would look wonderful, given the right frame, I thought.

"Oh? Oh, of course, of course you can," I replied, "look, why don't we leave your brother to it and you can follow me, we'll choose you something." Here would be a companion I was sure wouldn't bore me to tears (as girls often did) or scoff at my every choice (as Eric always did).

"Yeah, sure! Thanks, Pam, I'd love that." Damn, her smile looked so sweet.

She turned to her brother, kissed him lightly on the cheek and said something which I picked up as sounding like 'Pah-kah." Marat took one last look in my direction, winked and walked out to mingle, or touch up women, or whatever guys like to do in their free evening time.

"Look, Pam, I'm sorry for this but I was just admiring your wonderful outfits and I thought I might like to try some of that."

"Don't worry," I said (I was taking a liking to her, after all), "just tell me what kind of stuff you like and I'll find it…it's this way." I took her to the room where I stored all of my personal gothic apparel, perfect for impressing the evening scene. We rifled through the corsets, and were just about to move onto the latex section when she stopped me.

"Oh, this one is perfect! May I have this one?" I looked at her selection: a purple and black top with buckles down the front and a square cut neck, which I personally thought would look beautiful against her olive skin. Clearly she thought so too. Wow, I was liking this girl. "And maybe, with those shoes?" Again, the calf-length black boots were perfect for her.

"Yes, of course. You can try them on here if you want."

"Nah, it's fine. I've wasted enough of your time, as it is. Thanks for these though…"

I didn't really want her to leave. "No, stay, if you would. I'd like your advice on something I read in a magazine."

"Alright Pam, but I'm warning you, I don't do celebrity gossip. Fashion I'm okay with, but I really don't want to know what Paris Hilton ate for breakfast." Well, she was one in about 30 million.

I fished out the article. It was one documenting the rise and fall (no pun intended) of the high-heeled shoe throughout the decades. Of course, I had been around to see most of these ludicrous fashion moves, but I wanted her perspective on what was 'in' today.

"Well, look here. What I was wondering was, with straps, or strapless? What would go well with my new whalebone corset?"

She took the page from my hand and considered the images carefully. "With straps, definitely. Especially the ones that lace up the leg slightly, if you can ever find them. Hey, wait, I'm going in a couple of days to Camden Market, if you let me know your size I'll find you a pair! Someone's gotta be willing to hand some over. Just, you know, seeing as you can't come out during the day, and shopping at night is awfully painful…"

Again with the confidence. Not only had this girl been completely not fazed by my undead state, but she had, within 15 minutes of meeting me, offered to do my shopping. And in such an innocent, friendly manner as I was not accustomed to (normally most people who want to do anything for me come with a sex repertoire which I mostly don't care for). I agreed, it was a good idea.

"It's set then," she continued, seeing my smile of approval, "I'll get them to you as soon as I can, promise! Oh, wait! I've been so rude, I never introduced myself! I'm Kat, by the way. Katerynna, that is. It's meant to be Katerina but, it looked a lot better like that, and nobody ever, ever calls me by that name anyway!"

She put her hand out, probably expecting me to shake it. I was going to wave it away, but I figured if I was going to be friends with her I'd have to concede to her wishes just this once. So I accepted it, smiling even, revelling in the delighted look in her beautiful eyes as she let go of my hand.

At her request (which I was only too happy to acquiesce to) we continued to sort through my wardrobe, finding potential outfits for her, while reshuffling mine into different combinations of dresses, boots, corsets, tops and accessories. We must have spent an hour and a half lost in leather, satin, velvet and stiletto heaven, not really aware of much else until -

_"I GET ALL THE GIRLS, I GET ALL THE GIRLS, I GET ALL THE - "_

"Damn!" Kat exclaimed suddenly, dragging her phone out of her pocket, grimacing and pressing the answer button. "Yes...what? You're WHERE?! Marat, you utter IDIOT! What the HELL made you do that?! Wait...yes, hold on, I'm coming down there, don't overturn any furniture in the mean time..."

"What's he done?" I enquired.

"Oh, only gone and got himself pissed and then tried to swim naked in a bloody FOUNTAIN in the middle of a public park!" I wasn't surprised, but tried to express sympathy . "Well, Pam, it's been lovely meeting you know, but I've got to go and attempt to get the bastard out of the station. I'm sorry! Thanks for everything though, you have my home number, don't you? Drop me a line any time you like!"

With that, she hugged me briefly, thanked me yet again for the clothes, with the promise of returning them pressed clean as soon as possible, and took her leave. Shame she had to go so quickly, I'd just been planning a whole host of conversation topics. Still, at least I'd been left with the assurance I could call her, which I planned to do with immediate haste...

_A/N I know this seems a bit cut-off, but I promise it's for a reason! We didn't want to post too much too soon! x_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This next chapter is a straight follow-on from Chapter 3, written by Riatree and beta'd by lacrimatra. We had originally put this as one long piece but felt like it could be broken down some. So, still on a Pam POV (we just love her too much!). _

_Hope you enjoy!_

That was eight weeks ago, and we've been good friends ever since. I'd been looking for a human friend for a long while, not content with reading my agony aunt columns and fashion advice in whatever trashy magazines I could find. To my disappointment, however, most of them just did not see beyond the façade and common belief of Big Scary Vampire to even dare to try and have a conversation with me (which is, to be honest, how I preferred it in most situations. Wouldn't want to be too much of a softie, would we now?). But her warm countenance meant I just had to be pleasant back to her, and you know what? I'm glad I never gave her flat, sarcastic, scary Pam, because for once, I could just be a regular girl around her.

Sometimes, when she was free, she'd come around in the evenings to visit, and we'd get to catch up on everything; she'd fill me in on events that took place in daylight and places she'd visited, occasionally bringing me stuff I'd asked for, or lending me a book she'd read. If we couldn't see each other then she'd always stay up late so I could call her, and we'd discuss just about everything, from new menu specials I was planning for the club (always good to have a human opinion on that one) to the latest serial killer story, and she'd ask me all sorts of things about being a vampire; what I'd seen in my time and so on, her intelligence and curiosity wowed me. I even flew her back to her flat once and she said I should stay (we watched 'Pan's Labyrinth', which even I have to admit was an excellent movie) until dawn. I simply loved her company.

Which is why when I saw Eric glaring at her, watching her for minutes on end, his gaze never wavering, when I heard his fangs come out ever so slightly in arousal, I was furious.

I knew he was determined to seduce her, and, if that failed, to glamour her into submitting to his will. But I also knew what would happen if he did: my friendship with Kat would come to an end, and she would feel hurt, betrayed and shocked by our ruthless capabilities. This was something I desperately wanted to keep her away from – although I knew she did not mind, I was enjoying my interaction with an intelligent, level-headed, non-prostitute human (and a human with a wide knowledge and appreciation of gothic couture, no less).

'"Yes, Eric, for the first time in your life, you're going to have to control your lust."' That's what I told him straight. Not that I believed he'd ever listen to me, stubborn so-and-so that he is, just as I knew I couldn't let his insane libido affect me seeing Kat. In fact, I asked her back a couple of nights later to look at some new stylish (and rather humorous) cocktail recipes I wanted to introduce.

I was already modelling the new heels she'd brought me earlier than I expected.

"My studies are going so well, you know! The likelihood of me finishing my PHD this year is very very high."

Oh, and did I ever mention that I found out about a week after we met that she only moonlighted as a metal singer? And that in daylight hours she was, in fact, one of the most talented young scientists in London, working in Kensington, writing a thesis on extremely complicated...what did she call it? Oh yes, particle physics. She'd been doing it for years now, how she found the time to sing, and rehearse, and visit the bar, and live a regular life, I'll never know.

Reclining now in a back room I had claimed as my own, we discussed the latest romance novels we'd embarked on reading.

"So do you think Jane's going to go back to Mr Rochester, Kat?"

"Ooh, well I know what happens, saw it on the Beeb, couldn't spoil it! God though, that Jane Austen loves to drag on, doesn't she? I remember dozing off after Mr Collins' proposal in 'Pride and Prejudice'…"

"Yes well, back in my human days they were all pretty much like that. Weren't actually sticklers for short sharp thrills."

"Hell, Pam. How did you even cope?" Well, that could have got me started on the most massive rant about being freed from my mortal torment by Eric, but there was no way I was gonna make him look better than he already was. So I resigned myself to saying -

"I didn't. I knew I had to break out of the shell. I guess being a vamp kinda did it for me."

"Mhm, I guess. So, did Eric single you out especially? You must be quite grateful to him, I'm sure he's really quite lovely, isn't he? I mean, not like you expect someone like - "

"Yes, well." I did _no_t want to digress onto that subject. "Anyway Kat, I wanted your opinion on some new cocktails I'm thinking of introducing into the bar. Change is the key to a trendy life - and profitable business - and so on. Also, I wanted to...er...tailor our choices according to the clientele. Would you mind?"

"I'm sure I can be of some help! But don't you have barmaids and waitresses working here already? Why not get them to advise you?"

"What? You mean get those airheads to make important business decisions such as this? When all they're worrying about is which out of lilac, mauve or violet bedroom walls will make their boobs look biggest?"

"I'll take your word for it! Where do we go then? Out to the bar?"

"We don't want to be heckled the minute we get out there, no, we'll go into the office where there's a whole cabinet full of alcohol for us to experiment with."

"But I thought you guys didn't drink anything except human blood? So why not keep everything in the - "

"Don't ask me," I said, leading her down the corridor, "take it up with Eric." Easy reply, because I didn't know the answer why we kept bottles and bottles of liquor stacked up in there, amongst all the other crap Eric hoarded. Although the second I said it, I chided myself, because I truly believed her completely capable of marching up to him and requesting an explanation.

"Here we are!" I announced, and for the first time, I wished that the inner sanctum hadn't been laced with Essence of Eric. The whole room reeked of his cologne and whatever lotiony product he had taken to using these days, and jackets were up hanging on the door. A bottle of Tabasco sauce sat on his desk, along with an untouched bottle of Southern Comfort, various comics and...other periodicals. Even his little collection of 'exotic artwork' was hung up by his desk. Yes, this was Eric territory, alright, and I didn't want Kat getting too familiar with it.

"I take it this is Eric's office?" Kat walked up to the desk, flicked through a couple of pages of the latest edition of 'Maxim' that Eric had 'hidden' under a few letters, and giggled, "Ooh, who'd have thought really old vampires would still behave like teenage boys! He and Marat have more in common than I thought, they need to get together, I mean, how fun would that be?!"

"I'm sure Marat would soon get bored of Eric, Kat. Anyway, I was flicking through this book of cocktail recipes and I've highlighted a few that sounded good. At least for our... target market."

Kat replaced the magazine, trying to reassemble the 'disguise' Eric had for it, walked up and took the magazine from my hands, gazed over the recipes and resumed her giggling.

"Adios Motherfucker?!" She kept reading. "Pam, what is this! You've only circled the ones with swear words and sex references in. Target market, indeed."

She obviously found this more amusing than me. I personally thought it was a great idea.

"Oh God, Pam, have you any idea how much booze we're gonna be piling into this? You're sure you're ready?" I poised myself by the shelves. "Vodka...make sure you've got the proper stuff now, gin, Tequila, rum, Blue Caracuo and a load of that sweet and sour mix stuff. Oh, and lots of lemonade." I got to retrieving the ingredients.

"Did I mention yet, Marat's having a concert this Saturday down in Camden, I wouldn't plug it like this normally but he really wants a good audience and, well you're very welcome to come, we'd love to hang out with you there."

"Will there be complimentary refreshments?"

"I'm sure you'll find something to your satisfaction in that part of town..." She winked playfully. "It can get crazier than this place, would you believe it."

"It's just for one night, I'll get by on just about anything nice and fresh. How about you though? Any long-tern human companions?" I knew Kat was straight, of course, but she'd never mentioned any boyfriend, so I was curious.

"Nah, not for me." Kat had begun filling a tall glass with the ingredients, referring to the recipe book every so often. She walked over and put the Tequila back before continuing. "I'm pretty much done with men, I mean, some of them really are so stupid. Thinking they can impress me in some way when really they're good-for-nothing morons trying to fuck their way through the whole of London in a month. I mean, you should see the pricks that turn up to the lecture theatre some nights!" (She lectured in her free time, to help her studies, I was given to understand) "Just sitting there, brain-dead and dreaming, until the end of the lesson when they come up with the intention to screw me on the desk. I find the whole thing pathetic! Of course, I wouldn't mind if a man proved to be a worthy partner, and I mean proved over a long time, but for now, I'm not going down any routes."

As much as I was lacking in it, her moral resolve actually impressed me. I let her get on with measuring out all the alcohol, and topping it up with some Schweppes Lemonade that had been in a crate in the corner of the office. I watched anxiously as she smiled and took a big gulp, her face contorting slightly when she swallowed. She held the glass in front of her and looked at it, half in disgust, and half almost in amazement.

"Okay, this is NOT called 'adios' for no reason! Pam, all people need is three of these and they're gonna be out like a light! I mean it, I've put more liqueur in here just now than I would drink in a month. I think you've gotta be careful on this one, you could get all sorts of violent behaviour ensuing if - "

"Any sort of violent behaviour, I will personally attend to, Miss." Oh, _great. _Eric's big blond frame filled the doorway as he stood, eyes widened in lust his eyes roamed over Kat's body, currently perched on the end of his desk.

"Nice to see you again, Eric. Cute office you have here, very, uh, equipped." She got off the desk to continue putting away bottles, and I saw Eric's eyes glance over to mine, and over to the gap between the low cut V-neck of Kat's kaftan, taking in the view she probably didn't realise she was giving him, or really felt conscious about, but I could tell that Eric's trousers were _certainly _very aware of it. I quickly moved to stand in front of her.

"So, Eric, did you take another look at those new menus I was planning on putting in the bar?" I crooked a smile at him, seeing his eyes narrow in frustration at me.

"Yes, Pam, I did. In fact, I thought I'd ask Kat to give me a second opinion, so if you wouldn't mind, we'll just -"

_Oh no, he didn't. _"Actually, Eric, I've taken up so much of Kat's time tonight that she deserves the rest of the evening free. Kat, you don't want me to fly you home or anything, do you?"

Eric's face lit up at his eureka moment. "Oh, Kat, you don't want Pam to fly you, she's too crazy up in the air, what you need is a big, experienced - "

"Now look, both of you." I hoped this was Kat's no-give attitude come back to bite his sorry butt. "I'm quite alright driving in a car, yes, a car, all the way back three miles to my flat. And I'll be perfectly safe, don't you worry!"

By this point, Eric had strategically bypassed me and was leaning casually against the wall next to his desk, shoulders fully back and biceps flexed slightly too much. Now he started his not-so-scary-and-very-accommodating-and-welcoming-vampire speech:

"Kat, why don't you come back tomorrow night, you know you're welcome any time. The barmaids all recognise you, just come in to say hi to me and Pam, you can have all the drinks you want, completely on my account…"

She looked apologetic. I hoped it was because she couldn't see me tomorrow and not because she would be missing Eric. "I'm really sorry, but I'm lecturing tomorrow night. Got an important particle interactions session all set up that I simply have to deliver, couldn't miss it."

Eric cocked an eyebrow. He didn't know Kat was a secret genius. Probably assumed she'd have the IQ of a McDonalds worker or at least be nothing more than a cocktail waitress in a sleazy bar, because she sang in a band entertaining the weirdos who frequented his club.

A thought suddenly occurred to me. I knew obviously that sooner or later Eric WOULD make her submit to him in whatever way he could find, but perhaps - what had she said earlier? Something about the men who came to her lectures merely to get mental images of her for later use in their bedrooms, and how she'd be put off by one straight away? Yes that was it. Oh well, 'if you can't beat them' and so on. I knew I could land Eric in it with this one.

"You know, Kat, _Eric's _studied particle and molecular physics extensively in years gone by. He would be a renowned expert if he had a beating heart." I glanced across to Eric at this point, smirking slightly as I saw his angered face and rigid body, right now doing all he could to restrain himself from throttling me.

"_Really_?" I loved seeing excitement on Kat's face. "Well then Eric, you're very welcome to attend the lecture tomorrow night! It's at Imperial College in Kensington - you got that? Make sure you sit at the front because we'll be asking for lots and lots of input from you! It's not often we get another expert coming in to listen..." She turned to Eric and grinned.

With my super-duper vampire senses, I heard Eric curse profusely in Swedish under his breath before he looked back up - or should I say down - at her.

"Yes, erm, well, providing Pam hasn't got anything planned -" He looked at me pleadingly.

"Nope, nothing at all. Go along Eric, it'll be fun for you to share your expertise with another person so high up in the field." I sneaked another snarky grin at him.

"It's settled then," Kat interjected, by now gathering up her coat and heading for the door. "Tomorrow at 8pm. Don't be late!" With that, she hugged me and took off.

Eric took a few steps towards me, fists clenching in rage at his realisation of the total embarrassment he would soon be facing, but I dismissed him with my hand.

"You can't have anything against me, Eric. You wanted to be closer to her, didn't you? And what could be better than you just happening to be an expert in the field she spends half her life working in?" He grimaced, but I could see he was considering the idea.

"Okay, fine, I'll go. But if I come out there with her thinking I'm a fucking maniac, there will be NO mercy. Got that?"

"Absolutely. Now, maybe we could go and dig out that flowery shirt again for you to wear..."

_A/N: We want to hear what you think - press that review button NOW!!! Thank you! :-)_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N Written by lacrimatra (and beta'd by Riatree - I think you know the drill now!). Had to get back to Eric after our nice little Pam digression. I tried to keep it squeaky clean and failed. Blame Eric - he is far too hormonal! Please don't forget to review - at the moment we have no idea whether all you guys actually like this fic or just think it's trash..._

Eric alighted on the doorstep to the lecture theatre. He was late. Despite this, he couldn't help but check his appearance was as perfect as it had been before the flight in the reflection of the windows before he entered. He moved a stray blond hair back to its rightful place, winked at his reflection just to check that he still looked hot enough when flirting and walked into the building. The woman at the desk directed him up the stairs on the left, looking slightly flustered at the appearance of the devastatingly sexy vampire standing in front of her. He hurried up the stairs and saw the double doors to the lecture theatre. He eased open one of the doors to see that Kat was talking about the properties of sub-atomic particles (based on the power point on the projector screen behind her). He carefully stepped round the door, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible – this was, of course, completely impossible considering that he was a six-foot-four vampire sex-god who was walking down the centre of the room in the middle of the lecture. Kat, dressed exquisitely in a leather, tight, knee-length skirt and white blouse, saw him and smiled,

"Hey Eric, so glad you could make it. Guys this is Eric – an... acquaintance."

About twenty heads turned to look at the vampire who made his way down the closest unoccupied row to the centre. He sat down and gingerly smiled at them, for the first time in his life uncomfortable that he was now the centre of attention. He was glad that he had brought with a notebook for he now busied himself in copying the title from the power point and soon the heads turned back to face Kat. All the guys were, he was pleased to note, decidedly ugly and – from the questions they asked and the pages of notes they wrote - seemed to be complete geeks. The only one who seemed to have an IQ below 140 was the guy sitting right in front of Eric. All he was doing was drawing a very detailed sketch of a cat and decorating 'Kat and Matt 4ever' with careful shading and lots of little hearts. Eric couldn't believe that someone had taken all the effort to go the class and was just using it to drool over Kat. It was so pathetic.

There was no one in the lecture theatre now. She was packing away. She looked at him, meeting his eyes with her beautiful dark ones. He slowly walked down the steps of the auditorium until he reached her. He lifted her onto the desk and she carefully and slowly kissed him on the lips. Then she reached her hands around the back of his head, entwining her fingers in his hair, pulling him towards her. They were kissing more passionately now, breathing heavily when she came up for air. He slid a hand up her perfect, shapely thigh and then used his long fingers to unbutton her blouse, one button at a time, feeling her soft skin that sparked with his touch...

"Eric? So what do you think of Robert Marshak and Sudharshan's V-A theory of weak interaction?" Her voice shattered the perfect image he was picturing in his head. And, another first for him, he didn't know how to answer.

"Err... Well it has some good merits. Yet I think that there isn't enough... evidence to err... fully prove the theory." He was glad to see that the other people in the room were nodding and Kat smiled.

"Well I completely agree with you there. Yet, from your experience as a physicist, do you think knowing this theory helped your work in any way?"

"Err..." Thankfully one of the other students put their hand up, saving him from certain social suicide.

"Professor! I just was wondering how Sudarshan deduced that if a Universal Fermi Interaction was present, it had to include the axial vector interaction?"

Kat reluctantly (as Eric liked to think) turned away from Eric and answered the student's question. Luckily the question generated a discussion that took up the last fifteen minutes of the class and Kat seemed happy to let the class drift into the more relaxed atmosphere as people happily argued the merits of the theory. Eric pretended to write down everything being said, hoping that with his head down, Kat wouldn't have to ask him any more unanswerable questions. The only thing he was really writing down was 'Look up theory on internet' because he was certain it would come up in the next conversation he had with her.

Kat checked her watch, sighing, and waited for one of the students to finish a passionate point about the topic.

"All very good points here - well done everyone. Unfortunately we've run out of time! I'll see you guys next week - we'll be examining weak interaction more closely and also have a quick look at lattice gauge theories." Everyone stood up, a few hurrying straight out of the room while some of the others hung back to ask Kat a question or just to thank her. The creepy guy in front of Eric hurried over to the short queue of people waiting to speak to Kat and, when it was his turn, he thanked her profusely and she smiled, lightly touching his shoulder to which his eyes widened in surprise. As the weirdo left, Eric watched as he kept staring at his shoulder and smiling contentedly to himself. Once the rest of the group had gone, Eric finally walked down the steps to where Kat was. She was logging off the computer, waiting for it to let go of her memory stick. She turned to him, flashing that dazzling and beautiful smile,

"Did you enjoy the session?"

"Yes it was very... insightful. Thank you for allowing me to attend." She turned back to the computer, resorting to just pulling the memory stick out because it was taking so long for it to register her request.

"There's no need to be so formal - you can come when you want and leave when you want." She put the USB in her handbag and folded her notes, placing them in the bag too.

"Well thank you all the same. I feel like I learned a lot." Like not to start having sexual daydreams about the lecturer in the middle of a lecture in case she picks on you to answer a question.

"It's my pleasure. Oh, do you want to come to the gig I've got on Saturday night? I wouldn't normally ask, it's just that my brother wants to get as many people as possible because it's a new venue - to give a good impression. You really don't have to come if you don't want..."

"No I'd love to!" He said, enthusiastically. He coughed. "I mean, it sounds good. I'll try and make it."

"That's great!" He loved it when she was excited, her eyes glowing and her grin filling her face. "It's at the Electric Ballroom in Camden. It's basically a showcase of some random amateur acts so we'll only be doing a few songs." She pulled on her bag and walked to the door. He opted to follow her but felt he had to find some sort of topic of conversation.

"So where are you from? I thought I could detect a slight accent during the lecture." He cursed himself for being so blunt, worried he was being offensive.

"I used to live in Russia until I got a place here at Imperial College. I lived there with my parents and Marat - my brother - until I was about eighteen. But I hated it in Russia! The only good things I got from there were these shoes!" She casually modelled her black stilletos with small metal studs around the toe, seemingly there just to prevent them from looking too feminine, with a red sole. He noted the way the heels accented her calf muscles, making her form even more desirable, if that were possible. He dragged his eyes away from her perfect legs, trying (and failing) to stop himself imagining them wrapped around his body.

"I can see why - not only are they great shoes but if you were, for instance, to date someone of a taller stature those heels would definitely be of use when performing certain activities."

Kat burst out laughing. Eric tried to understand how a line like that, which would normally have a girl jumping on him and basically having sex with him there and then (to prove that heels were not needed), made this one laugh.

"Does that line actually work?" She said, gasping for breath in between her fits of hysterics. Once more her innocent act - in this case laughter - forced him to imagine a different past time they could be doing that would leave her in the same, breathless state.

"You'd be surprised." He said, smiling, hoping he could pass it off as a casual joke. They walked in a comfortable silence for a while; Kat still giggling slightly, Eric knowing that they would have to part ways soon and determined to keep the conversation flowing.

"Kat... that's not a very Russian name - is it short for anything?" He ventured, thinking it was wise to move away from the supposedly dangerous area of flirtation.

"Katerynna."

"Katerynna..." He lolled the name around in his mouth, enjoying the feel of the consonants on his tongue and lips. "Älskarinna." He muttered, marvelling at how similar her name was to the word, and at how he couldn't stay away from mildly sexual references even in the space of one conversation.

"Oh you're from Sweden then?"

Eric was slightly taken aback. Not only had she heard his mutter but she also knew what language it was. Surely she was just telling from his accent or something...

"Yes...What made you say that?"

"You just said 'Älskarinna' - 'lover' in Swedish. I therefore assumed you were Swedish, unless you like talking in random foreign languages."

"Well...Um... It was just a joke - your name sounds so similar you know..."

"Don't worry about it. What I want to know is whether you've heard of the Swedish band Pain? Or maybe Opeth?" They had reached a fork on the road and from the way Kat stopped walking and turned to him, Eric realised she clearly wouldn't let him follow her all the way home.

"Um. Yes. Of course I have. They're really good!" He had no idea what these bands were. He made a mental note to look them up on Youtube when he got back.

"Well we really must compare music! You'll probably like the stuff we're playing tomorrow night, it'll mainly be Nightwish with a bit of Metallica and Sonata Arctica."

"Sounds good." He said, staying on the safe side of the English vocabulary.

"Well bye then - see you Saturday night!" She turned from him, her long hair shining in the street light.

"Err... yes - see you!" Once again, his wide range of pick-up lines failed him when faced with this beautiful girl.

She looked back at him, probably to say goodbye again, he liked to think, not wanting to miss the chance to have one last look at the gorgeous vampire-sex-god. He used that opportunity to push off into the air. Not that he thought himself particularly ostentatious but desperate times call for desperate measures and with her not reacting to a single sexual innuendo, he counted this as a desperate time. Desperate enough for him to resort to showing off his flying skills.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Sorry for the delay, but we hope you like it! Written by Lacrimatra with occasional contribution and a beta from Riatree. We're having fun with this, and we hope you guys do too! :-) Oh, and apologies for the slightly *cough* wrong thoughts of Eric. He's just too sex-obsessed - it's not our fault, honest!_

A few nights later, Eric was sitting in his office, trying to engross himself in the 'necessary' budget cuts that Pam had e-mailed to him. Lazily he googled 'Amoratra' and found a few random pictures of Kat's brother's band with one or two where Kat was actually there. They were amateur shots - the kind taken on camera phones and posted on social networking sites - yet he zoomed in on the best quality picture with her in it. He appreciated how well the deep blue corset accented her figure, and the way the black lacing up the front was so inviting. He spent the next few minutes imagining slowly undoing the corset, thinking of their proximity, picturing her face, eyes alight with excitement, her hands searching his body for a way to let her express it...

"Eric, you're in charge of the bar on Saturday night - got that?" Pam barged into his office, placing herself in the uncomfortable chair opposite his desk, interrupting the perfect picture. He hastily closed the image and stared intently at the budget plans on the monitor, hoping he had given nothing away.

"Right..."

"Hello? Earth to Eric?" Pam sidled over to his side of the desk to see what he was staring at. "Since when did you agree so readily to do extra work?" She saw the spreadsheet. "Okay, I knew I was good with spreadsheets but I didn't know they were that exciting."

Eric moved back slightly, leaning in his chair and steeping his fingers, hoping to regain some semblance of authority in his own office.

"You say I must run the bar on Saturday night? I cannot do that." Pam almost smiled with a look of contentment.

"That's the Eric I know." Then she shook herself out of it and prepared herself for the short but successful argument that would convince Eric it was in his best interests to stay at the club. "And why can't you?" She asked, sweetly, prepared to change to her famous you-do-what-I tell-you-or-else tone the moment he resisted. Yet his reaction surprised her. For the first time in many decades, he began shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Almost, dare she think it, as though he was ashamed of something.

"There's an important... event on Saturday that I must attend." He shuffled about a little more and then carefully resumed his composed expression and posture, masking his thoughts.

"It wouldn't happen to be Kat's concert, would it?" Eric's eyes widened and once more he tried to regained his composure.

"Wha- No!" He felt that he perhaps had been a little too high-pitched at that point. He coughed slightly. "No... what on earth are you talking about?"

"Master." Pam said sternly, "I've known you over two centuries and you have this strange, fallacious theory that I cannot tell when you are lying. Or when you are obviously obsessed with this girl. And there is absolutely no way you are going instead of me."

Eric's nostrils flared, anger glinting in his eyes. "What position do you have to make that judgement?"

"What? The judgement that all you want to do is sleep with Kat or the one where I say I would like to go to my friend's concert rather than you stalking her? And I think I know who's company she would like more."

Eric looked as though he were about to say something more but he seemed to find it hard to collect himself, trying to choose which insult to respond to first. "We- I-..." He took an unnecessary breath (even after a thousand years it was a slight habit). "I'm very good company!"

"Good company? Do you think she enjoys having someone like you leering over her when she's trying to have a normal conversation?"

"Well... most girls wouldn't mind a man like me." If Eric had tail feathers, he would be preening them.

"Kat isn't 'most girls'. Unlike your kind of 'most girls', she has a brain! She's doing a second PhD for god's sake!"

"But Pam... that's the point. I'm crazy about this one. She's not like the others!"

"She may not be, but I've seen you like this before. Sure, there are the girls you just use as sex toys, but you've had infatuations before. And I've seen every one of the girls you 'fell for' utterly distraught and heartbroken the moment you find someone new, with complete disregard to the previous girl's feelings. It happened with that waitress and I know it will happen here if you continue. Kat is not falling for your charms (if you even know how to use any) so Let. It. Go."

Eric's explosion at his insolent child was delayed by a tentative knock on the door. In walked Ginger, barmaid, slut and fangbanger extraordinaire, shooting a flirtatious glance at Eric before turning to Pam.

"There's a... riot outside... I think it's..." She looked at Eric again, "because of the Master..."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Ginger?" Pam snapped irritably. Ginger took a breath and looked embarrassedly at Eric.

"Some of the female...and male...fans are getting a bit... annoyed that the Master isn't there. It's led to a sort of... fight." Pam sighed, though secretly with relief, hoping the interruption would cool Eric's boiling head and perhaps even shrink it slightly. Although, glorifying him in this way like a rockstar hounded by groupies was evidently not going to do wonders for his ego.

"Well, Master, get out there." Eric rose with a huff and a why-do-I-have-to-do-it-when-it-should-be-you-Pam-who-is-controlling-the-club expression yet it appeared he too wanted time to think over how he would persuade Pam that he did really care what happened to Kat. He strode out the room, ignoring Ginger, who stroked his arm as he passed.

"Well, what the fuck are you still doing here? Get out of the office!" Pam hissed at Ginger, who tottered out as quickly as she could in 6" heels.

Pam carefully closed the door and sat down in Eric's chair. She looked up the history on the web browser and smiled with triumph as she saw the picture of Kat in Amoratra. Obviously he had chosen the picture in which she was wearing the most revealing piece of clothing (which happened to belong to Pam as well). She opened the budget spreadsheet and was not at all surprised to see that no changes had been made to her plans - while this was fine for her proposed changes for the club, Pam was not sure she wanted him to be so uninvolved. Knowing Eric, he would ignore all her plans now and then complain once they were in place. She spent the next ten minutes or so redrafting the budgets, seeing as Eric wouldn't and barely looked up as he stormed back into his office, fuming.

"And just what do you think you're doing on my chair, in front of my computer, Pam?" His long blond hair was now wildly out of place and he was eyeing the alcohol cabinet with the intention of flinging it to Norwich.

Pam kept her cool tone, refusing to reach his levels of fury, "Possessive, possessive, Eric. And you wonder why I don't want you near Kat. If a lump of black leather means so much to you, think how carried away you'll get with her." She would have left it there, but not entirely satisfied with her comment, added, "Not that I think for one moment you'll treat her like the human being she is."

That did it. Eric rarely ever got angry, mostly because he had no need to raise his voice to get his point across, but with Pam, who was for all intents and purposes his spoilt little child (and one who clearly thought she could get away with everything), his Viking rage slipped out all too often.

"PAM! You are going to listen, and you're going to listen now." Pam scoffed, obviously anticipating his next words as she swung herself in the desk chair to face him. "Tomorrow night, I will be going to see Kat, and whatever happens there will happen, and you will be doing your duty as I have commanded and looking after the bar. And if it so happens that I end the night with Kat's clothes lying ripped all over my bedroom, and her in my bed, there is nothing, I repeat, nothing that you can do about it. I hoped, Pam, that I would never have to do this again, but... as your maker, I command you."

If she had human feelings, Pam swore she could have screamed at Eric's words. But instead she determined to follow her stay-cool mantra, and instead merely rose from the chair and stalked up to him.

"Very well, Master, I will do as you say." She used the most sarcastic tone she could muster, which for her wasn't very hard at all. "But if anything comes of this, and you even think you can get my help to drag yourself out of whatever hole you'll inevitably dig, remember that I will never, never want to do anything for you. Ever."

Eric could all too clearly see the complete contempt in Pam's eyes as she spoke to him. Perhaps he was wrong to deny her so selfishly? As much as he was her maker, he looked on Pam as a trusted friend, and he knew how much she adored him. But, if he was going to be laying down the law and laying down with Kat, he needed to stay by his decision.

"Fine, Pam. I am not your pet, remember. I made you what you are. I can take care of myself, thank you."

Pam arched her eyebrow at him, but said nothing, choosing merely to channel her disgust into yanking off the doorknob before she stomped out of the office into the shadows of the bar, stiletto heels clacking all the way.

Eric sighed, half in relief at having dealt with Pam and gotten his own way, but half in aggravation that he'd made her hate him. He he could completely trust as a partner to run the club, he let her boss him about, and he told her everything. Contrary to popular belief, while he had just about had enough of absolutely everyone else, she was the only one whose opinion really mattered to him (however much he tried to hide it).

Until Kat sauntered into his gloomy existence. He thought to the night ahead, which he had snipped Pam out of, and how he'd get to see Kat in her happiest state once more. She'd wear a beautiful outfit for him of course; she'd done the tight jeans look already in his presence, so he thought an impossibly small mini-skirt would do the trick. Black stockings, of course, with exposed lace at the top inviting his eyes to travel up, and up her tanned legs, which would be accentuated with the very high leather heels she would be wearing (obviously in anticipation of his visit, as she wanted to try and at least reach his chin). Her hair was loose, flowing as she head-banged to the music and her pathetic excuse for a vest begged to be torn off. If he was honest, he actually cared very little for the music - what mattered to him was seeing how Kat felt (and looked) when she sang it.

When she had finished the song, in his mind, she walked slowly and tauntingly to where he was sitting in a perfectly situated corner of the room. Before his brain could even think of how she would approach him, he imagined her straddling him, tracing his lips with her tongue. His dream self nipped her tongue ever so lightly while he ran his fingers through her soft hair. Soon they were kissing, gently at first but soon harder and with a fierce passion, their lips and tongues moving in unison, promising of other things they could be doing. They were pressed up against the wall now, he ran a hand up her leg until he reached the lace thong (it had to be lace) she was wearing and traced its outline, making her body shiver in apprehension. His body tensed in response, excitement coursing through his whole self, though particularly focused at a rather more southern part of his anatomy. He placed one arm around her, pressing into the small of her back, as his other hand continued up the back of her thigh, carefully arranging her leg so that it wrapped around his waist.

She moaned slightly, a sexy, desperate sound and he ground his hips up against her, forcing her to know how excited she was making him feel and she gasped slightly (another gorgeous sound in his mind). Still kissing her with a breathless need, he moved his hand from behind her up beneath her vest, feeling the curve of her breasts and stroking her carefully. Her eyes were alight with want and he knew it was time to fulfil her wish, as she carefully unbuckled his belt...

"Master. Move." A sharp, abrupt voice cut through the perfect image like a knife. Pam glared in response to Eric's how-dare-you-interrupt-my-perfect-sexual-fantasy look and he very nearly believed that Pam's looks could kill. She pushed his chair slightly out of the way so that she could access the computer to print off the budget plans. She obviously noticed the rather significant bulge that had formed between Eric's legs for she muttered,

"Go get yourself a prostitute, or whatever fangbanger you can pick up, you seem hornier than a hormonal teenage boy watching porn." And with that she stormed off, leaving Eric slightly perplexed for a few minutes. However before long he remembered about the concert the next day and so leaned back in his chair and resumed his amazing fantasy. No matter what his impertinent child did or said he knew one thing for certain: tomorrow would be a night to remember.

_A/N: And now you've read it, show us you've taken the time to do so and __**HIT THAT REVIEW BUTTON!! **__A few words, that's all we need! Do you like our Eric or do you think he's an obnoxious bastard? Do you think Kat will finally succumb to his will?_


	7. Chapter 7

_Put a stake! Through my heart_  
_And drag me into sunlight_

_So awake! For your greed_  
_As you're slaying the dreamer..._

The song blasted through the building, entertaining the hard core goths and druggies by the stage who were moshing quite happily to the metal. Eric, and the few vampires scattered throughout the venue, were not too pleased with the lyrics, although as Kat caught his eye, he began to wonder whether the choice of song was intentional or not. He was standing on the second floor of the club, watching the band from above; unwilling to enter the dangers of the tightly packed crowd below. Kat was looking stunning as usual. Her hair was still long and loose, shimmering in the flashing red lights of the stage as she moved in time with the heavy drum beats. She was wearing a red, silky, low cut top with a black swirling design embroidered on the fabric and sleeves that were cut vertically along her forearms so that the beautiful skin of her arms was visible, shining white in the gloom.

They finished the song to a round of applause, cat calling and wolf whistling. The wolf whistling increasing as Kat bowed, displaying more of her cleavage. Then she moved off the stage, denying Eric his view of perfection. He saw her in the corner, drinking beer and chatting with some of her 'fan club'. Evidently it was her brother's turn to take centre stage as the band picked up the pace to a more speed metal song.

_Let me go, master I hate you so._

_How can I sleep at night?_

_When my whole being cries..._

Once more the lyrics seemed to be aimed at him. He couldn't help but imagining Pam saying the words. Since the view was not as perfect as it had been before and the song was starting to make him feel uncomfortable, Eric decided it was time for a casual drink. He went over to the bar and was surprised at the large range of Tru Blood bottles on offer. Clearly the folks in Camden were used to his kind. Or they just enjoyed imagining what it was like to be a vampire, he mused, as he saw a quite obviously human guy drinking some AB positive. He ordered some B neg and for once did not mind paying the ridiculous amount that the club demanded because they had mastered the art of warming it to exactly the right temperature. For the first time in a while, the prosthetic, imitation blood actually tasted close to what it was imitating. He went back over to the balcony, bottle in hand, to see that the song was ending and Kat was coming back on stage. _Perfect timing_.

Her brother passed her a bottle of something bright blue from which she took a few gulps of before speaking into the mic. "We're gonna do something a bit more mellow now - it's by a certain band that is one of the gods of random metal. Apocalyptica!" There were a few woops around the room and a scattered applause.

"We haven't got any cellos here but we'll do our best with what we've got!" The lights faded to almost complete darkness. Eric leaned on the bars of the balcony, reluctant to lose sight of the girl. Slowly, as the intro music began, a red spotlight came up on Kat, making her skin glow with an eerie luminescence.

_Bound to your side and trapped in silence,_

_Just a possession._

_Is it sex or only violence_

_That feeds your obsession?_

Her crystal clear voice pierced the blackness. The lights slowly came up to show the rest of the band. Her emotion was so strong, Eric thought he could see tears shining in her eyes but was not sure whether that was just sweat or a trick of the lights.

_You could give me anything but love. _

_Anything but love..._

The song eventually ended, the atmosphere a lot darker than it had been earlier. Kat handed the mic to her brother and quickly moved off the stage, completely ignoring whoever still thought it was hilarious to wolf-whistle her (utter creeps who didn't know where their eyes should be, Eric thought), and - was she wiping those tears from her cheeks? Of course, she _could _have just been trying to sort her make-up out so it didn't get completely smudged from sweating under the glaring lights (Pam had given him numerous lectures in the past about the necessity of maintaining an even tone to the skin), but he was almost sure she had been _crying_ up there towards the end of her song. Why, he didn't know. Come to think of it, he hardly knew anything about her at all - except that she was gorgeous enough to make his head threaten to explode with vivid, wild dreams, and that she was probably going to have none of everything he wanted to give her.

A bartender tapped him on the shoulder, offering to take his empty drink. Yet, in the split second it took for him to hand over the bottle and look back at the crowd, Kat was gone. He tried in vain to find her gorgeous figure among the people below yet could see no sign of her shimmering hair and elegant gait. He assumed she had gone behind the bar and beyond his line of vision, and seeing as he was an entire spiral staircase away from the bottom floor and currently trapped in a huge crowd which had begun assembling as the night wore on, he was in no position to go chasing after her. He did think about flying it, of course, but it would just cause a scene, which he was sure Kat would be most displeased about (furthermore, descending headlong into a moshpit just didn't appeal). However much he wanted to anger her, to hear her getting annoyed and tense and heated, he restrained himself when his mind snapped back to what he was certain he had just seen.

Just as he was contemplating all the reasons why she should even want to cry at something which obviously made her so happy, he became aware of a small cluster of fingers groping his butt. He spun his head over his shoulder to see a couple of giggling, obviously stoned women (pretty much the only type that hung around Camden) dressed (well, if you could call it dressed) in what appeared to be costumes crafted out of various pieces of leather and scarves. They were teetering on 6" platform heels and, when he raised an eyebrow at them, seemed to push their chests out further in his direction and point to a side door which led into a small cloakroom (where he was sure, with his vamp hearing, the sounds of a couple already occupied in there were all too clear). He tried to be demure about it, just as he was sure Kat would like, and wave them away with a smile, saying that he wasn't in the mood and so on (gosh, he wondered how she got off on being so polite), but they didn't seem to want to leave him the hell alone.

"Come on, baby," one of the sluts was practically rubbing herself up against him, and now that she was (regrettably) closer, he could make out fang marks already on her – wait, that wasn't even her neck, "we'll let you bite us. _Anywhere_. Don't tell me you don't want it…" To emphasise her point, she pushed her hand in front of his groin. Agitated, Eric swatted it away like a fly. If this conversation was leading anywhere, he was going to be the forerunner. He glanced over his shoulder at the area below the balcony. He could see the next band – a seven-piece headbanging power metal group – had taken to the stage, and that he had very definitely lost Kat to the shadows. Turning his eye back to the fangbangers, he noticed that the other one appeared to be mark-free. _Blank canvas_, he thought. _Might as well go for it, might get rid of all this sexual energy I have for Kat…_

He brushed the other girl aside and turned to his assumed meal. "I suppose you'll do, then." He put on his low, growly, sexual voice which often had the power to make women's clothes miraculously fall off their bodies. "Don't make me wait or you'll be sorry. In the room over there. Now." The girl giggled annoyingly and he heard her heels clacking as he moved into the secluded room in the corner. The couple who had been utilising its...facilities before appeared to have cleared off, so Eric was sure of some privacy. He grabbed the girl round her waist and twisted her around, so that she was lying in his arms as though it was the end of a tango. He grinned at the smooth, exposed neck below him, elbowing the door closed as he extended his fangs, closing them in on her skin as she let out a small moan (Eric thought this was some sort of attempt at being seductive on her part). Yet, as the door shut, in the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar red-clad girl approaching the room. Not really thinking, he pulled his fangs hastily out from the girl's neck and dropped her instantly from his grip, as though she was burning him, not even caring as she collapsed directly to the floor with a slight scream of surprise, and then started laughing uncontrollably. Eric noticed none of this as he wrenched the door back open and hurried over to Kat, who was chatting with some of her friends just outside.

He reached down to get her attention but she turned around before he touched her perfectly shaped shoulder. She saw his face, her eyes lighting up,

"Eric!" She gave him a tight hug round the middle of his chest (it was as far as she could reach), which meant she briefly pressed her head into his rock-hard pecs, wrapping her arms around his body. He smiled uneasily, although pleased with the contact, and the access it gave his nostrils to her hair (it smelt of peaches), not sure how to react to this intimate move. The way she had practically piled her body into him, coupled with the amount of time she had spent at the bar suggested to Eric that she had long before passed the safe limit for alcohol consumption. He felt her giggle against his chest and the tingling feeling she caused him when she did so. Breaking her hold, she introduced him to her friends who, though equally drunk, seemed a little more daunted than she was by the tall blond as they were pushed forward by her in turn.

"I'm so glad you came, Eric! But where's Pam? I know, she must be busy, right? Well, tell her I said hi! Nice to see you though, really nice, are you enjoying the music? I have to admit that we ended up playing for so much longer than planned because of the audience requests..." Kat continued her non-stop barrage (she really was far gone) for about three minutes, while Eric simply looked down at her, happily taking in the view of the excited, drunk, talkative, lovely girl in front of him.

"Oh Michael," She said to one of the men, a studious looking professor-type who seemed slightly out of his depth in the venue. "Eric's a physicist too! We simply _must_ have him do a lecture at some point, don't you think?!"

Michael adjusted his glasses and smiled weakly, "Of course, Mr... errr."

"It's Eric Northman." Kat supplied. Eric was starting to like the effect the alcohol was having on the girl for she seemed quite proud to boast about her vampire friend. And then he realised the implications of the conversation - that he would have to lecture university students about a subject he had had no experience about. He wondered why he hadn't made more of an effort to come up with some clever reason why lectures weren't his thing earlier in her non-stop monologue.

Before he could answer, Kat took something out of her pocket - a small rectangular white thing- lifted Eric's arm from his side and pushed a card into his palm, closing his fingers over the top to make sure he had a good grip of it. The temptation to grab her wrists there and then and to pull her entire body right against him so her could feel her all over again was almost too much, but he instead resigned himself to inspecting the small writing on the card, pretending that it was hard to view in the dim light.

"I haven't given this to you before, have I?" Kat laughed slightly. He shook his head, looking at the card as though it was hidden treasure - another piece of contact information that would help him access even more of her life. "Well it's my card, it's got my college number on it, so you can call at any time you like and you'll be put through to my faculty. We'll arrange for you to come in whenever it's okay for you!" She smiled, drunk though obviously convinced that Eric was totally up for lecturing a group of young adults who, although being completely obnoxious, knew a hell of a lot more about particle physics than he did.

"Er...thanks, Katteryna," he had to call her by her full name, "I'll keep this and call you back very soon. I trust you have had an enjoyable night?" He didn't think it was an appropriate moment to bring up the tears incident since she seemed so elated right now.

She giggled again. "Ooooh, just lovely! We had an amazing crowd tonight and playing for them felt really good, ooh and I tried out my new songs that we'd been rehearsing. Did you recognise our Nightwish stuff?"

"Yes, I believe I did..." He couldn't give away the fact that the only interest he had taken in her music was ogling her on a computer screen. She giggled,

"I'm sure you enjoyed the lyrics! And I've got so many new bands you could play in the club! I'll probably poke my head in soon to see Pam so I expect lots of opinions from you then!" Eric noticed that her friends, by now, were getting irritated that she kept on talking to him and were edging away slightly, with her arm in tow. When Eric glared daggers at them, the geeky one, Michael, jumped suddenly and took a huge leap backwards, sending Kat flying into him. Eric in turn came straight forwards and put his huge hands around Kat's shoulders, pulling her up and holding her steady, waiting until she gave him the all clear and noting how he had managed to sandwich her between the two men, the less-attractive one of which had resumed his nervous laughing.

Kat, probably sensing this, patted Eric on the side of the arm, laughed even her intoxicated state; she clearly wasn't going to buck the trend and invite Eric out onto the balcony for a nice long 'chat', so he would have to find another way of getting to her.

Observing where she took the geek - down the staircase and round the back of the stage - gave him a sudden idea. Almost immediately after he lost her from view, he pushed past the multitude of clubbers and descended the staircase for the first time since he had entered the club. Again he pushed past the bottom floor crowd, who were now dancing heatedly to heavy trance beat booming from the DJ's onstage speakers. It took only a few seconds to glamour the 'security guard' who stood with dark glasses on guarding the entrance to the backstage area into letting him have full access to the dressing rooms and lounge. It wasn't really kitted out for rock stars, featuring sombre 'lemon meringue' walls, and flooring which seemed to have been completely torn up from having so many bottles, instruments, equipment and probably bodies thrown on it. On the left hand side as he entered, there was a small cloakroom where a mass of coats and bags had been dumped, none of which were on hooks.

He recognised Kat's bag - a plain black one with a silver clasp - from when he had seen her with Pam at the club. It was even open slightly, a tube of lipstick and other random objects that women seem to accumulate in their handbags in view. He carefully plucked the lipstick out of the bag, taking time to open the lid and imagine the contact of the tube with her perfectly sculpted lips. Yet as he imagined the lipstick being transferred to his skin in a much less homosexual way than placing it on his lips himself, a female vamp rushed into the room. He quickly hid the lipstick behind his back, thinking it would be slightly suspicious if she saw him holding a tube of lipstick. He nodded and the woman who seemed to have a double take as she realised that a ridiculously hot vampire had just acknowledged her presence. She probably wasn't used to it, he decided, seeing as she was quite a dumpy middle-aged woman who probably lived on fake blood (as, he thought, she'd never be able to get enough humans wanting to donate their blood. She paused for a moment, then picked up her coat and placed the black bag from which he had just stolen make-up from on her shoulder. Then she hurried out of the room, though not before casting a last glance at Eric, who was busying himself by slowly putting on a random black coat that he soon realised was ridiculously small.

_Shit._

He was standing in the middle of a cloakroom, wearing a coat that was far too small for him, and holding a tube of lipstick that didn't even belong to Kat. If someone walked in right now, they would probably think he was part of the entertainment. He pulled the coat off as quickly as he could (it was hard to pull the sleeves off his well-formed muscles) and decided it was time for Take Two. This time he would take no chances. He saw another black bag, very similar to the one he had originally thought was Kat's, but before he stole anything, he quickly checked that there was something to confirm it was hers. He found a small pack of business cards with her name on it. He decided that, unless she has some sort of secretary who had exactly the same bag as her, he was safe to assume that he was going to be stealing from the right bag. With a triumphant flourish, he lifted her lipstick from the bag, determining to get out of there as quickly as possible rather than examining it to see if it smelt/tasted/felt like Kat's lips would...

_A/N Here's the playlist:_

_Song 1 = Slaying the Dreamer ~ Nightwish_

_Song 2 = Wolf & Raven ~ Sonata Arctica_

_Song 3 = SOS Anything But Love ~ Apocalyptica (and Cristina Scabbia)_

_P.S. REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!!_

_We're not going to post again until you give us some more reviews so that we know it's worth our while!_


	8. Chapter 8

_There's a devil waiting outside your door. (How much longer?)_

_And he's weak with evil and broken by the world (How much longer?)_  
_And he's shouting your name and asking for more (How much longer?)_  
_There's a devil waiting outside your door..._

Eric knocked on the door.

He didn't understand why he was nervous. He had done this a thousand times before - both in his head and with other girls. He had to wait a few seconds and panicked for some moments as he thought he had the wrong door, despite the writing on the frosted glass of the door clearly said 'Katteryna Dmitrieva' as it was written on the card she had given him, along with a few other scholarly sounding names scattered around, and the receptionist had told him she was definitely in the lab today doing night work. He could make out the dim blue glow of the lab lights radiating through the window, just like he'd seen on the crime and forensic dramas Pam liked watching late at night. The music quietened slightly and he heard the tapping of a woman's heels as a flustered Kat opened the door,

"Yes, yes, hang on, I'm coming, I've just got to finish the..." She had originally flung the door open and started striding back, but her voice trailed off as she glanced around and realised the guy standing in the doorway was not one of her colleagues. "Oh, hi there, Eric."

If he hadn't recognised her and if she wasn't wearing a pristine white lab coat on top of her simple jeans and baggy Metallica t-shirt, he would have thought she was one of the assistants rather than someone with two PhDs and her own lab. It was a well kitted-out room, with benches lining the sides and LED spotlights shining from the bottom of shelves. The open cupboards were stacked with every type of scientific device, some he recognised and some complicated jumbles of wires and pipes and tubes which he never imagined anyone would even want to design. He would have questioned her as to their purpose, but, remembering that Kat believed he was an expert in the field, he kept shut.

"Sorry about the state of the lab, it must look pitiful against the ones you've experienced in the finest institutions on the continent. I am sure you must have visited the Hadron collider at CERN at some stage?" she asked, gesturing at him to sit as she positioned herself up on one of the lab stools. He opted to stand. She furiously typed at the computer next to her.

_The Hadron what-what? _Wait, he had heard of it. It was some sort of scientific breakthrough thing in Switzerland - he'd seen things written about it in one of the dreary London papers Pam insisted having delivered every morning to the club.

"I have not had the opportunity to see it, Katteryna, business permits me from making any journeys out there. But perhaps, one day we will organise a trip to it? How's your French?"

"Mm? Oh, I only studied English and Finnish in school, but I did take languages for science while I was doing my Masters'. Then again, you would be our linguistic expert." She giggled slightly, although her eyes never met his as she focused on the monitor in front of her. Eric felt as if he ought to comment on the complex diagrams in front of him, but again he refrained himself from saying anything, not wanting to get himself into any more 'trouble'.

"Excuse me for a second, I've just got to get this lattice-gauge simulation working..."

"Of course. But how are you, Katteryna, recovered from your singing?"

"I'm used to it, once you've heard 118 decibel music for a while it doesn't really affect you any more. Now, did you want anything specific or did you just come here for a chat? I could go and get you a bottle of - "

"I just came to give this to you. You left it behind at the... err... bar." He placed the lipstick on the table in front of her. She pressed a button on the keyboard triumphantly. "Done." Then she turned back to face him, and picked up the lipstick, smiling,

"I was looking for this! Thank you!" She beamed at him, placing it in her bag beside her. And as he looked into her dark, perfect eyes, he knew he had to do it now. He could sense her mind, and its indifference towards him. Still looking into her eyes, walking slowly towards her, he pulled her will towards him, placing himself in her mind, making her only wish to be with him, to touch his skin, to hold him...

"Look at me." He held her gaze fiercely with his icy blue stare.

She reached up her hands, slightly dazed, and pulled his head towards her. He lowered his voice into a reassuring hush, leaning in until his lips grazed the sensitive skin underneath her ear at the top of her neck.

"Just trust me." He pulled away and looked into her eyes again, watching them swim as he channelled his will and energy into her, through her as he placed his hands around her body.

She pressed her soft, beautiful lips to his (it was easier to bypass the height difference with her on the stool) and he placed a hand behind her head, marvelling at how her hair felt like silk. She wrapped her legs around him and he gently pushed her onto the desk behind her. He pushed his hands beneath her t-shirt, pleased to find that her skin was softer than he ever could have imagined, and slowly slid his hand up her body. Understanding his need for more contact with her flesh, she broke free of his kiss for a few seconds as she gracefully pulled off the top, her torso now exposed with only a thin, lacy black bra between him and her perfectly formed breasts.

She shifted back along the desk so that she was now lying down completely with the vampire above her. She reached up and slowly undid the buttons on his silk, royal blue shirt, placing her hands against his sculpted muscles as he placed his hands on her breasts, whilst licking her neck. He slowly moved his hands further down her stomach as she pulled him onto her, his chest now gently pushing against her heaving bosom. She kept him glued to her lips as though she wanted to drown in his kisses. Placing one hand on the small of her back, he grazed his fangs against her collarbone, slowly moving his mouth up to her neck and she gasped, pulling his head further to her. He drew back, not wanting to fulfil this wish until he had her completely at his mercy.

His fingers artfully moved down to the belt of her jeans and carefully began to slip the strap out of the belt buckle painfully slowly, his lips never leaving her neck, where he was sure he had marked her. He was acutely aware as he did so that the effect of the glamour would begin to wear off as he hadn't made strong eye contact for a long time, but surely, he'd won her over enough now to make her bend to his will as he pleased. If her whimpering reactions to his touches were anything to go by, he would soon be resuming what he had the burning urge to do for so long and sink his fangs into her smooth flesh while she held him tight, digging her painted black nails into his shoulders. He heard that the song on her shuffle had changed from the thrashing to a more subdued melody that was playing in the background, the lyrics penetrating his mind -

_I don't care where you go, you won't get away from me_  
_Black as the night is day filled with no sympathy_  
_Marching down the hall for a misery_  
_I don't care where you go, you won't get away from me..._

Finishing with the belt and continuing to undo the rest of her jeans, he lifted her legs up slightly to let him push the denim off her hips. As he did so he felt her flinch slightly and push against his chest, seemingly trying to get him off her, but the direction her hands seemed to shove him in did give him better access, so he took it as encouragement to run his fingers over the elastic band of her underwear, which conveniently matched her bra in its lacy, barely opaque, material, and was trying to work out the best way to stylishly and professionally get it off her.

He traced his tongue down her cheek as he did so, wanting to draw out the time before they would consummate their relationship, to find the cheek already wet. He withdrew in surprise, seeing without a doubt tears in her eyes which coursed silently down her cheeks. His surprise seemed to have given her a chance to break free from the glamour, for with a sob-filled scream she slapped him fiercely across the face, like a cat would attack an intruder, and pushed him off her so that he fell to the floor. Despite his clear advantage in size and strength, his shock made it easy for her to overpower him. He managed to recover, getting back to his feet as she hastily jumped off the desk, pulling her jeans back on and covering her torso with the t-shirt, not turning away from him as though afraid to turn her back. She paused at the door, still clutching the top to her chest, and still facing him. Her panic-stricken and tear-stained face tore him apart as she looked at him with complete and utter despair and a naked hatred.

"You fucking bastard." She said, coldly and quietly. Then she slipped out of the door. He saw her silhouette pull the t-shirt back on through the frosted glass and it pained him to realise that she was too afraid or disgusted by him to be blinded for even a moment by the fabric. He wanted to console her. Yet he wondered what he would say. He cursed himself for ruining his chances with her for she probably would never want to see him again, let alone get as far as they just had, without him glamouring her again. He slammed his hands on the desk, the noise reverberating round the room, a few glass beakers rattling on the shelves. He could never glamour her again. He could not bear to see her like that again. He had to find another way.

He buttoned up his shirt, surprised to find his fingers were shaking slightly - though whether from shock or from frustration with himself, he could not tell. His phone was buzzing furiously. He looked at the contact on the display. It was Pam. And she was not happy.

_A/N: A short update, we know, but it was the best place to end the chapter._

_**We're doing another POV next, but we need to know what you want: Eric or Kat's? Do you want to see the full extent of Eric's emotions, or find out why, if there was a reason, Kat acted like she did? We're NOT gonna post until we get**__** significantly**__** more reviews this time!!! Because believe it or not, we WANT to know what you think! **_

_Playlist! _

_1st Song = Loverman ~ Metallica_

_2nd Song = Pressure ~ Anathema_


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